


Just Some Repairs

by MirkwoodElf



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Adorable, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Coach Negan, Crack, Flirting, Fluff, HOW DO YOU TAG THINGS, I'm actually a failure, M/M, Mechanic Daryl, Motorcycles, Negaryl, Non-zombie au, Not so crazy Negan, Romance, Shy Daryl, TWD Alternate Universe, Tags May Change, boy howdy, hot kisses, i am not sorry at all, nature porn, negaryl dates, no zombies, sexy motorcycle stuff, shitty tags, trash, twd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:35:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirkwoodElf/pseuds/MirkwoodElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is asked to stay over time to repair a motorcycle, but finds more to rev his engine??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bike

He had always enjoyed working at Dale’s Auto. Here, in the spacious garage workspace, he could be alone- could really focus on what he was doing. Whether it was a simple oil change or transmission repair, Daryl was always on top of it. 

He could also finally have time to think here. It was a safe space for him- he felt at home with his hands under the hood of a car, or checking out a motorcycle which had recently rolled into the shop. Dale had been impressed with the younger man’s enthusiasm and quick work when it came to the bikes, and usually left those jobs with Daryl. Truthfully, Daryl couldn't be more excited to get handed all the motorcycle repairs here at the shop. 

But today? Today was extra special. 

Dale had come to Daryl around three o’clock and asked him begrudgingly to work overtime, with his apologies. Of course he would receive his due payment- and as soon as Dale mentioned it was because of a motorcycle which had come in last minute, Daryl couldn't accept the offer quick enough. 

Once he finished up his last car, he wiped his hands on his shop rag, put it in his back pocket, and headed to see the bike. Dale had mentioned the bike sputtering and backfiring, which had concerned the owner quite a bit. 

Daryl was also concerned, because when his eyes caught the bike, they were glued. Hell, who wouldn't be concerned with a bike that looked this damn good? Just looking at it made his palms sweat with anticipation- he even had to blink a few times and double check that this was the right bike. It was too nice to be sitting in a shop- unworthy of having his hands working on it. Whoever the owner was, they were lucky as hell. He recognized it as a Harley Davidson 883 Iron, which had been customized a bit. The handlebars were a bit taller than usual- the thick black tires and rims- matte black, sharp, v-shaped mufflers- 

“Come on, ya got a job ta do,” he grumbled under his breath at himself. Who knew how long he had taken to gawk at the thing- not that it was undeserving of such attention. He went into his usual groove, enjoying getting to check on a bike like this. 

About 45 minutes in, he figured up what had been the issue, and fixed it without too much trouble. He wiped the sweat from his forehead which had perspired from the open garage doors and Georgia heat, and sighed, squatting as he gave the bike a last once over. Hopefully that would be that. He wouldn't mind seeing it drop by again sometime in the future…

A whistle echoed across the dense walls of the open garage, startling Daryl since he had been alone for so long after hours, working on the bike. His blue eyes flicked up immediately to the direction where the musical sound had started- the garage opening. There was a man clad in leather jacket and smug grin leaning against the wall.

All things be damned if the man didn't look as good as the bike did. But you didn't hear that from Daryl Dixon. 

He was tall, straightening up and taking a few steps towards the bike and redneck mechanic. His dark eyes traced the bike as he ran a hand over his salt-n-pepper stubble, coming to a halt on Daryl’s form. Daryl felt as if the man was staring straight through him, and he had to remove his eyes from the man’s chocolate gaze. He lowered his blue eyes to his hands as he cleared his throat wiping his hands on his shop rag one last time, mind racing as to what to say. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. 

“S’yours?” He asked, mentally scolding himself. Dumbass.

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, nodding with a breathy, “Yeah,” he smiled, patting one of the grips, “‘Scuse me, I...Just came to see how she’s holding up- Dale told me you were the best, but I wasn't aware how much of an understatement that was…” 

Daryl froze, hands stilling instantly as his brain scurried to process what the hell he just heard. His mouth ran dry instantaneously. 

Okay, maybe he had a slight interest in men. Truth be told, he hadn't really ever been attracted to many people. But whenever he got a moment alone to get to know himself better, he always found his mind trailing back to a pair of glittery blue eyes and brown curls with an officer’s uniform. He had done a few tune ups on the man’s squad car. Unfortunately, he hadn't really gotten around to getting to know Officer Friendly. 

Hell, Daryl had never even flirted “properly” before. Was he even sure this is what this guy was doing? He could feel the anxious butterflies in his stomach building. There was no way in heaven or hell that this guy thought he was attractive in any way, shape, or form. He was a redneck- a mess- a Dixon, for Christ’s sake. This guy had to be putting up some sort of front. He probably ‘flirts’ with everyone he meets. 

Daryl finally got his head back and stood, replacing the red, dirty rag to his back pocket and crossing his arms as he looked at the taller man- and if he noticed the other wet his lips as he raked his dark brown eyes down the mechanic’s arms for a second, he definitely wasn't going to call the fellow biker out on it. 

“Dale says a lot of shit. The town gossip if ya ask me,” Daryl finally told him. He had caught him gossiping with Andrea countless times before. 

The stranger chuckled- a honey-coated, pure laugh that made Daryl’s cheeks flush slightly.

“Well he definitely didn't tell me how fuckin’ gorgeous you are. Now I feel bad. Shoulda brought some flowers or something,” that bright grin was back, confident as he looked Daryl in the eyes after he had said his peace.

Daryl was completely at a loss. He stared at the man. He didn't even know the guy’s fucking name. He knew it had been on the paper Dale gave him- but since when did he look at those? He swallowed, looking towards the door which lead inside the automotive shop, feeling as if anyone could see what was happening. He snorted softly in disbelief, shaking his head as he felt more warmth filling his cheeks. He couldn't help it if he started chewing on the skin to the left of his thumbnail out of nervous habit. This guy had to be delusional.

And the chuckle was back, but even more sincere and amused this time, “You not used to getting compliments?” the man asked him, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll check out my bike if it’s finished, I’ll pay for your work. You meet me at Bone’s Restaurant at 8, and we’ll call it a deal,” he smirked as he fished out his wallet. 

Daryl’s lips parted a bit as he watched him. This was a joke. His brow furrowed slightly and he mumbled around his thumb, “Don't even know yer name.” 

“Negan,” he told Daryl, ever smiling as he held out a paper fold with the payment inside to Daryl. The mechanic fumbled to get the keys for the bike out of his pocket, and handed them to Negan in the trade off. 

“I didn't even calculate the cost-” Daryl started, Negan shook his head. 

“I talked to Dale, already covered,” Negan replied with a content sigh, throwing a leg over the bike. It started up with a heavy, vibrating growl which simmered into a constant purr. The sound shivered from Daryl’s toe’s to his head, and made him bite his lip. Negan looked like a King on his Harley- he most definitely belonged on that fucking bike. He flashed Daryl one last smile, eyes narrowed, and Daryl knew that his arm hairs weren't the only parts of him that were starting to raise. 

“I’ll see you at 8,” Daryl heard him say. Then he backed out of the garage, leaving Daryl standing in awe to listen to the bike’s roar become a distant hum.


	2. All or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE DINNER DATE OHOHO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your positive feedback!!! I really appreciate your thoughts, so in return, have a ridiculous date chapter ;)

Daryl was nervous. 

It was different from his usual version of "nervous," where he refrained from speaking by chewing on his fingernails or the skin around them.

He had practically ran to lock up the shop and get on his bike so that he could go home and wash up for his date-

It was a date right? Calling it a "date" seemed girly...

He still couldn't believe this guy invited him to dinner. Was this place expensive? Would he have enough money? Was Negan going to try to pay for him? 

Oh God.

There was no way he was going to end up the girlfriend at the end of this dinner date. 

He shook his head, damp hairs shaking little water droplets to the floor as he struggled to get a clean, less hole-y pair of jeans on. Holes were cool right? All of his jeans seemed to have holes or stains or something on them in one way or another. Being a mechanic wasn't exactly forgiving to his wardrobe. However, he managed to keep a few articles clean just in case. 

He slid a nice black Guns n' Roses tank top on and looked in the mirror. He looked decent. Hey, the guy had liked him when he was covered in oil and gross, so why wouldn't he still? 

Did he ACTUALLY like him though? He was still under a partial assumption that this was a joke, but the little glimmer of hope he had wanted so badly to think otherwise...

He stuck his phone, lighter, wallet, and cigarettes in his back pockets before snatching his keys once more and heading for his Harley. 

Here goes nothing....

\---------

Daryl arrived just a few minutes before the assigned date time. Before he had parked his bike, he had spotted Negan's instantly, and knew for a fact that he was here. He definitely wasn't getting stood up. When he entered the restaurant, the smell of food and alcohol wafted to his nose, and practically made his mouth water. It was a really nice restaurant- 

Shit, this was a REALLY nice restaurant-

"Glad you came," a familiar voice said, and Daryl looked to see Negan beside him, "Table or bar?" 

Daryl's words caught in his throat as he looked up at the dark haired man. He was smiling at him again, and those brown eyes were twinkling in the soft light of the restaurant, and dammit if he didn't look somehow even better than the last time he saw him.

"Bar?" Daryl finally said.

"Bar it is," Negan replied, heading with Daryl over to said bar. 

Daryl's heart was thudding against his ribcage as he sat down next to Negan, trying to ignore the feeling that people were watching him. So what if people are staring at him? 

He didn't really belong in a place like this- some redneck at a-

"I really appreciate you working on my bike for me. Haven't had a problem with her yet, and I'm sure I won't for a long time, thanks to you," Negan's words shook Daryl back into reality, and he watched the man push a bottle of beer and a menu over to him. He hadn't even noticed him order them. Daryl took the beer in his hand.

"S'nothin', just my job," Daryl took a sip.

"You're damn good at it, but I came unnanounced on a busy ass day when you could have easily put it off til tomorrow," Negan commented. 

"Nah..." Daryl said after he swallowed, "Bike was too nice to just leave it," he said back. 

"Really?" Negan smiled, his eyes narrowing a bit at the Dixon man, "You like it that much?" 

Daryl felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he glanced away from Negan's eyes momentarily, "Yeah," he murmured. 

"How'dya like to ride it?" Negan asked boldly.

Daryl's mouth opened as he trained his eyes back on Negan instantly. Ride the bike, right? Just the bike? Because he glint in Negan's chocolate eyes said otherwise. Daryl swallowed, words sticking together again.

"You two ready to order?" The bartender asked, smiling. 

"Just a few minutes, sorry miss," Negan responded, looking at the blonde for a moment before looking back to Daryl once she walked away. 

"I- Yeah," Daryl stuttered his answer. 

"How about tomorrow?" Negan asked, leaning an elbow on the counter. 

"Yeah," Daryl repeated. 

"Good," Negan smiled, "What do you want to eat?" He asked, opening up the dinner menu. 

"Uh," Daryl opened up his own menu and looked around. It had steaks, seafood, ribs- 

"Get anything you want, unless you're not that hungry. Then we can split something," Negan said. 

Daryl thought for a moment. All of it was expensive, and he didn't want to break Negan's wallet on the first date- 

Did Negan just imply that he would be paying for him?

"I can pay for myself," Daryl told him, heat rising in his cheeks.

"I don't think so," Negan replied simply, shaking his head.

Daryl had a feeling this would be difficult. He wasn't used to being doted on...so he could just split something big with him, and force him to split the bill.

"Wanna split the Mixed Grill? It's got a bunch of crap we can try," Negan noted, as if he were reading Daryl's mind.

"Sure," Daryl nodded, still a bit unsettled.

The two stacked their menus and the next time the barthender came near, Negan placed their order.  
The two bikers then sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their beers in content.

Finally, Daryl broke the silence for once, "What do you do?" 

"I'm a Coach at the highschool," Negan told him, then took a sip of his beer.

"Like football?" Daryl asked. He had never been really big on football, or any sport for that matter. NASCAR was entertaining sometimes.

"Like table tennis," was Negan's response. 

Daryl stared at Negan for a moment as his brain churned up another response. 

"Ping pong," Daryl said, curling his lips in for a moment as he tried not to smile involuntarily. 

"Mhm," Negan smiled, narrowing his eyes at Daryl, mischeif dancing in his eyes again, "Got a problem with ping pong?" 

Daryl accidentally snorted, then cleared his throat. This was totally unexpected, "No."

"I get it. You're intimidated by my obvious overwhelming amount of badass skill and expertise," Negan broke into a grin. 

Daryl let out a laugh he couldn't quite surpress- an honest, genuine laugh, that he hadn't shown to anyone, let alone a stranger, since God knows when. Negan even laughed with him, shaking his head.

"Sure I am. Plastic balls are real damn intimidating," Daryl smarted off. 

"Ouch," Negan feigned offense, pouting a bit. 

The bartender brought their meal over and slid it between them. Lamb, pheasant, and steak filled the plate enticingly. Daryl stared at it. 

"Ever had lamb or pheasant before?" Negan asked, cutting into the lamb with a knife. 

"Nah. Had squirrel though," Daryl replied, smirking at Negan's surprised reaction. 

"You must be one hell of a shot," Negan nodded, clearly impressed. 

"I've got some skill and expertise," Daryl mocked. Negan laughed. 

"Here, Mr. Expert," Negan stuck a chunk of lamb with the fork and placed it near Daryl's mouth. 

Daryl blushed when he realized Negan was feeding him. He hesitated, taking the meat off the fork without taking his eyes off of the other. Negan retracted the fork with a satisfied look as he watched Daryl chew. It tasted different- unlike his usual game. The lamb was tender and juicy. 

The two ate and talked periodically for the rest of the meal, and Daryl found himself actually enjoying himself. He would be lying if he said he didn't want to see Negan again.

Negan handed the bartender his card before Daryl could intercept, and the two left soon after, Negan dismissing Daryl's attitude with no struggle. 

"What's your number?" Negan asked as they stopped outside the restaurant doors. When Daryl looked at him, he was waitin patiently with his phone in his hand, "Y'know, so I can call you for that ride tomorrow."

Shit, this guy was serious. 

Daryl gave Negan his phone number without a second thought.

"I'll call you," Negan smiled, stepping forward and closing the gap between them a bit. 

Daryl swallowed, bracing himself for anything. His mind raced for a split second before he recognized the warmth of Negan's lips against his right cheek, making Daryl flinch ever slightly. 

"See you tomorrow," he said after, putting his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, turning, and heading to his bike. 

Daryl was paralyzed, shockwaves vibrating through his body from the simple action. He watched him walk away. Usually if someone got that close, it was to kiss him with a fist, not lips. 

But he hadn't really been afraid when Negan came that close. He had let him kiss him.

And Daryl had loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! I'll try to whip up some more plot after a while. Thanks again for the inspiration everyone!


	3. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for this Sunday guys ommgmgjshk
> 
> >:)))))))) TWD Just gets better and better i s2g. 
> 
> Enjoy~~

Daryl got up the next morning with butterflies in his stomach. He typically gets up early regularly, and this morning was no exception. Sure he liked to sleep in on the weekends, but with his brain buzzing with possibility and the events of the night before, it was impossible for Daryl to lay down.

 

So the hunter readied his old-ass coffee pot, and went to make himself look more presentable. His clock read 7:31, and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, but it was better to get himself going now rather than last minute. He sighed with a look in the mirror, ruffling his scraggly brown locks. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before gently touching the spot where Negan had kissed him the night before. He had felt the man's grey-black scruff against his cheek for only a moment, but it seemed like the feeling had permanently etched itself into his mind. Daryl swallowed when he noticed himself smiling at the thought of that kiss, and dragged his eyes down to the counter top, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. 

 

Last night may have been his first ever REAL date- or at least that's what he deemed it to be. Sure he had hung around the girls which flocked with his brother, but they were nothing like Negan, and definitely didn't make him feel as good either. 

 

If Merle knew he was "hanging out" with a guy...

 

Just as his mood seemed to start to sour at the thought, Daryl was spooked by his phone's notification tone and brought back to Earth.

 

Daryl pulled on some clean clothes and picked his phone up off the nightstand, hoping it was Negan. He unplugged it from the charger and checked- it was a text from an unfamiliar number.

 

"You up, gorgeous? Can't stop thinking about you."

 

Daryl stared at the text, eyes wide. His fingers shook slightly as that embarrassed heat returned to his cheeks.

 

"Shit," Daryl murmured, carrying his phone to the kitchen with him. What was he supposed to say to that? His fingers lingered over the keyboard for a moment. Calm down. Daryl put his phone down on the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee- not bothering to put any sweetener in it. He took a sip, scalding his tongue a bit, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he sat the cup back down. He picked up his phone. 

 

“Yeah”

 

Daryl pressed his thumb and index finger into his eyes. What the fuckkk! He couldn’t text let alone talk for shit. If only-

 

The familiar ping interrupted him again. 

 

“Give me your address.”

 

It hadn’t quite occurred to Daryl that giving this guy, who he just met yesterday, could be dangerous. What if he was some sort of serial killer? Oh well, he had already sent the information. It wasn’t like if he went missing for days because his body was buried in the woods someone would actually up and call the police. What if this guy was more like Merle than he seemed to be? He didn’t have any obvious signs of hardcore drug abuse. 

 

What was the saying the kids were spouting nowadays? “You only live one time?” or some shit-

Daryl shrugged it off and looked at the phone when it pinged again.

 

“On my way.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Daryl lived in a crummy apartment complex; about a fifteen minute drive from Dale’s garage. It definitely beat living in that nasty ass trailer with Merle- he finally had some peace, although he had to admit he missed his older brother- piece of shit or not. Being on the ground floor had its perks, like knowing when people were pulling in or out of the parking lot. In the middle of the night. With brights on.   
He liked to keep his window open instead of running the AC all the time, which meant that when people came in and out during the day, he could hear them. Which was a good thing this time around, because he recognized the sound of the black Harley immediately. He closed the window and locked it, grabbed his essentials, and stepped out into the dawn. 

 

The light was streaking orange and pink across the sky, and Daryl swore that Negan looked fucking mystical standing in the slowly warming grey-blue morning.

 

“Good morning sweetheart,” Negan mused openly. Daryl had to fight not breaking his neck to look around and see if anyone else heard. Instead, he simply looked at Negan and the bike, pursing his lip for a moment. His shaggy dark locks hid most of his embarrassment. 

 

Negan huffed with amusement, flashing a white grin at the other man, “Gotta think of something else to call ya?”

 

Daryl narrowed his eyes, “Mmhm,” he hummed in response.

 

“I’ll think of something more suitable on our ride,” The taller man remarked, standing straight and stretching for a brief moment, “Gotta get going if I’m gonna show you something,” Negan added, handing the keys over to Daryl, who was dumbfounded. 

 

Daryl stared at the keys, “I’m drivin’?” he asked in confusion. He didn’t know where the hell they were going. What if he fucked up the bike-

 

“Right,” Negan replied, sitting back on the motorcycle’s leather seat, room enough for Daryl to sit in the front, but not enough room to argue. 

 

I mean, in all honesty, maybe there wasn’t JUST enough room on the seat. It looked pretty tight- Daryl swallowed hard, stepping a leg over the bike and sitting down in front, Negan’s front nearly flush with Daryl’s backside. He could feel the heat radiating off of him. It made Daryl nervous and comforted at the same time. He stuck the key in the bike and started it up, feeling it come to life underneath his hands as he took the handle bars- the little vibrations from the bike surging through Daryl’s fingertips and into his veins as adrenaline. 

 

Daryl revved the bike and bit his lip, tensing when he felt Negan’s hands on his hips, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. 

 

They started off, and when Daryl got to the exit of the complex, Negan spoke, “Take a left.”

 

Daryl did as he was told, pulling onto the street with the bike purring loudly as they accelerated down the road. The cool morning wind rustled hair and clothes as they rode, content settling upon them both. 

 

Negan settled his chin against Daryl’s shoulder, “Right at the fork.”

 

Daryl didn’t even notice how close they were anymore. It hadn’t registered how Negan had pressed himself to Daryl, and he was glad that he didn’t care. He could feel every inch of the man against his back, and a bit lower than that…

 

The brown eyed man’s next command came as “To the left,” as he slid his hand from Daryl’s hip to rest upon the redneck’s thigh. Daryl went from careless to hyperaware in a matter of seconds. He went left as told, up a steady incline that cut through the forest and uphill. He hadn’t gotten around to this area yet, although he had taken notice of it when he first moved to his apartment. Negan’s head lifted from its resting place on the redneck’s broad shoulder to nuzzling Daryl’s neck softly. 

 

The hunter shivered, revving the bike a little harder when Negan mouthed a light kiss against the skin there. Daryl felt Negan’s smile against his neck at the reaction, a light chuckle following, swept away by the wind.

 

“Here,” Negan as they rounded one of the corners. There was a barren spot where the trees separated, a small outcrop where a couple of cars could park next to a guard rail. They pulled in there, and Daryl turned off the bike when it came to a halt. The sun was just peeking halfway over the treetops at them, and Negan hopped off to greet it. 

 

Daryl was frozen on the bike, staring at the scenery stretched out before them. The other man put his hands in his pockets and let out a quiet huff of air as the world woke up around them. Now that they were silent, Daryl noticed all of the birds chirping and singing around them. He shifted and got off of the bike when he regained his bearings, standing close to Negan as he watched the world changing in the most miniscule ways to make something so grand. 

 

“Whattaya think?” Negan asked after a few moments of silence.

 

“S’beautiful,” Daryl murmured back, eyes not leaving the landscape. Sunrises happened every morning. It wasn’t like they were special or anything. But he’d be damned if he missed a second of this one. 

 

“Hell yeah it is,” Negan responded, eyes peeled from the scenery and re-glued on Daryl.

 

The redneck felt his eyes on him, and forced himself to look at the other man. The sun was brightening that gorgeous smile even more than usual, contouring half of his face in a heavenly light. Just looking at him like this was enough to take the air from Daryl’s lungs. He turned his blues to the ground, he made a gravelly “Hmm,” in his throat in thought, then eventually followed it with, “Thanks fer-” 

 

His chin was lifted and blue and brown locked- the connection was only severed when a new one began- soft pink lips embracing each other in a sudden fit of passion. The world shifted, and Daryl grabbed on to Negan’s jacket, balling his fists in the leather to steady himself. Negan tangled his hands in Daryl's messy tresses, pulling him impossibly closer as they kissed, a wild mixture of cigarettes and mint mingling together.

Daryl pulled back, catching his breath and looking down, unable to meet Negan's gaze. He kept his hold on the jacket, pressing his head against the man's shoulder. It felt like the kiss had lasted an eternity, although it was only a few seconds, and already had Daryl buzzed and eager. The two stayed in their embrace until Negan spoke up.

"I've got some beer at my place."


End file.
